


Steady, As She Goes

by SianShanya



Series: Uprising [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: A Truly Obnoxious Number of OCs, Even More Shameless AU Wish Fulfillment, F/F, F/M, Ghost-Crew, Kanan's Identity Issues, M/M, Rebels Seasons 2-4 Whomst?, Sabine's Authority Issues, Shameless Rogue Squadron Content, The Continuing Adventures of the Skywalker-Naberrie Clan, canon whomst?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21775285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SianShanya/pseuds/SianShanya
Summary: Hi, Hello, and Welcome Back to the Continuing Adventures of the Skywalker-Naberrie Clan! As always, there will be no Sithly Skywalkers on this ride. After several years of living as a mostly happy family constantly on the run from Imperial forces, it's space heist time for the intrepid Alliance to Restore Freedom to the Galaxy. New friends and old grievances crop up as pilots and espionage experts from rebel cells around the Galaxy come together to pull off the most audacious operation the Alliance has ever attempted...the forcible liberation of 14 prototype T-65 X-Wings, along with their design plans, from the Empire's clutches!
Relationships: Ahsoka Tano/Original Female Character(s), Ezra Bridger/Luke Skywalker, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Asajj Ventress/Quinlan Vos, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Uprising [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/234483
Comments: 84
Kudos: 138





	1. On Rainy Days and Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Campy intro aside, I hope you enjoy this next installment of the Uprising 'verse, born out of my dear love of the Rebels Crew and the love I've had for starfighter pilots since the very first time I watched the Star Wars. Also, hope you all enjoy TROS, since it comes out next week.

Steady, As She Goes

2 BBY. Dantooine.

The stormclouds were visible from space as Hera guided the _Ghost_ along its approach vector toward Dantooine. There were no warships - or any other kind of ship, for that matter - in the system, but Hera knew the Alliance kept their capital ships constantly moving and well away from any major bases.

Still, it seemed odd to jump into the headquarters of the Rebel Alliance without so much as a challenge.

“Sabine, up the sensitivity on the scanners for me, will you? This looks pretty nasty.”

Hera brought the _Ghost_ down through the atmosphere and into the cloud layer. Up close, the clouds were a leaden, heavy gray, but the scanners hummed cheerfully under Sabine’s hands and led them true through the gloom.

“Oh great,” said Sabine as the ship sank through the last of it, “it’s raining.” It was, and in veritable sheets, but Hera shot Sabine a quelling look anyway.

“No attitude today, huh?” she said. Sabine flipped her hair, violently purple today, out of her face.

“No promises.” She shot back. “I don’t like being called across the Galaxy like a tame anooba, Hera.”

Hera sighed, shaking her head.

“We can’t stay on the fringes of the rebellion forever, Sabine. We could be doing more.” Sabine snorted, derisive.

“Hey, I like what we do. It makes a difference to real people in the Galaxy, not a bunch of old time senators and their war.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m just saying, Fulcrum could have _asked_ , instead of treating our coming like a foregone conclusion.”  
  


“The message could have been politer, I’ll give you that.” Said Hera. She wasn’t personally offended by Fulcrum’s brusque nature, but Sabine had a troubled history with authority, and Hera didn’t blame her for being wary.

She’d never even met Fulcrum, after all, she had no reason to trust in them.

Though still looking decidedly unhappy, it seemed Sabine was done arguing for now. She took Hera’s concession and settled herself to watch what little of their descent could be seen through the driving rain.

They landed on a soaked pad outside of what might have been an old Republic base. It was at the least the site of a Clone Wars battle. A pair of ruined gunships, half cannibalized for parts by the look of them, lay canted to their sides, one wing buried in the mud. Sabine’s mouth tightened even more at the sight of them.

Hera powered the _Ghost_ ’s engines down as Sabine left the cabin, headed for the supply compartment, or, more likely, the rain slickers inside. Hera followed her out to the hold, where the rest of her crew was engaged in an enthusiastic game of Nega-ball. Chopper appeared to be winning singlehandedly, by virtue of his electrified arms. She had to call out a couple of times to be heard over Ezra’s dire threats of dismantlement, anyway.

“Hey!” She yelled, taking advantage of Ezra’s pause for breath. Both boy and astromech froze, and Kanan chuckled. “We’ve landed. Get your rain gear, I don’t want to be late.” Zeb rolled his eyes.

“Rain.” He growled. “I _told_ you that was rain, Kanan.” In response, Kanan threw a slicker at him. Zeb snatched it out of the air. “It’ll be ages to dry my fur.”

The rain was _freezing_ , sinking a chill right through Hera’s slicker and into her bones. Kanan, catching her reaction, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, lending her body heat as they hurried, heads ducked, across the field between the landing pad and the door to the complex. Even with the rain gear, Hera’s boots, socks, and feet were soaked by the time they reached the two miserable-looking sentries standing to either side of the wide blast doors, pressed in tight to the wall to avoid the unrelenting rain.

The sentries graciously let them duck under the ledge and out of the wet before the left one, a stocky Rodian, growled,

“Name and business.” Hera flashed a smile, taking pity on the pair of them. At least she’d be inside in a minute.

“I’m Captain Syndulla, from Phoenix Squadron. Fulcrum sent me and my team here.” The Rodian nodded.

“We’re expecting you. Go on in, the twins’ll take you where you need to go.”

“Twins?” asked Hera.

“Yeah,” said the Rodian. “you can’t miss ‘em.” The door hissed open. The Sullustan sentry on the right cast a longing look at the warm, dry interior as the door dragged jerkily open and Hera walked past.

She paused just inside to shake the water from her lekku as the blast door stuttered closed once more.

They stood in a wide-open military-style hangar, the biggest Hera had ever seen. Mismatched freighters, transports, and a couple of repainted Separatist gunships sat scattered around the space, and even Sabine forgot to scowl at the sight of it, her jaw dropping. A cheery hum of conversation hung in the air between the twenty-five or so pilots and techs who were working on the ships.

“Hey! You’re Captain Syndulla, aren’t you?” Hera jumped at the voice and spun to find the speaker, a rather short human teenager, sitting on the wing of a UT-60D, his legs dangling over the side. A brunette girl, around the boy’s age, sat cross-legged beside him.

“That’s me.” Called Hera. “This is my team, we’re from Phoenix Squadron.” The kid clambered over the side of the ship and slid along a dangling cable to land on the hangar floor in front of them. Ezra ducked out from behind Zeb and called out,

“Luke? Luke Amidala?”

“Hey, I remember you!” said the boy, a sunny smile splitting his face. “From Lothal, the Hammerheads! I hope they worked for you.” Oh, so _this_ was the kid who’d smuggled the three hammerheads down to Lothal for them last year, thoroughly charming Ezra in the process. He hadn’t shut up about it for nearly a week afterwards. Luke clapped a hand on Ezra’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you again, Ezra! Welcome to Dantooine.” He said, still grinning. Turning to her, he said, “I’m Luke. That’s my sister, Leia.” He added, gesturing to the girl, who planted a hand on the ship beneath her and vaulted the fifteen feet to the floor, landing without a sound.

Beside Hera, Kanan stiffened. 

“Are you a Jedi?” asked Ezra, sounding fascinated. Leia laughed.

“Not quite.” She said, and jerked her chin in Ezra’s direction. “Cool lightsaber.” He blushed, hand going to the combination hilt. Sabine elbowed him in the ribs.

“I’m supposed to take you to see my mom, Captain Syndulla.” Said Luke. “Leia can show the rest of your team to quarters and the mess, though.”

“Sounds good!” said Ezra immediately, following the girl. Sabine and Zeb exchanged grins, and set off after them, a cackling Chopper in their wake. Kanan met Hera’s eyes, questioning. If she asked, she knew, he’d come with her, Alliance protocols be damned.

Instead, Hera smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Whatever the reason they were here, it was likely to be Important to Important People, people Kanan didn’t need to upset.

“I’ll be fine, Love.” She said. “Go make sure Ezra doesn’t get into trouble, I’ll catch up with you later.” Kanan snorted.

“Easier said than done.” As he walked away after the team, she tried not to wish she’d asked him to come.

Luke led her down a maze of corridors, chattering the whole way.

“So, this is an old Republic base from the Clone Wars.” He said, confirming Hera’s observation from outside. “We’ve been here a few weeks, but it rains about half the time, and honestly I can’t wait to leave. Mom swears up and down this is just the planet’s rainy season, but-“  
  


“Sorry,” cut in Hera, “who’s your mom?”

“Oh!” said the boy, his voice cracking. “Sorry, I forgot to mention. Padmé Amidala, she handles a lot of the Alliance’s negotiation work, since she used to be a senator.” Hera blinked. She’d thought, from Fulcrum’s brevity with the details, that this might be a more formal operation than her team was used to, but she hadn’t expected to be working with the Alliance’s top people, either.

Kanan was either going to be very happy, or very, very not.

Luke finally paused to punch the chime on a door. They were deep inside the facility now, but the signs of battle hadn’t disappeared. Hera couldn’t stop staring at a blast mark, scorched black on the gray of the walls. Luke caught her looking and his face fell. When he spoke, his voice was somber, far from his earlier chatter.

“The Jedi lost this fight, in the Clone Wars. Mace Windu barely got out before the droids overran this base. Ben says they lost a lot of men.”

The door hissed open before Hera could come up with a response to that, or to ask who ‘Ben’ might be.

Luke waved at the two Mon Cala who stepped out into the hallway, his grin back. He looked around Ezra’s age, now that Hera thought about it, too young to remember the war, if he’d even been born before it had ended.

“Go on in.” said Luke after the Mon Cala had waved back and set off down the hallway. “I’m gonna go find Leia and your team.”

Feeling not a little surreal, Hera walked in. It was a simple room, definitely not a full command center for a base this size. The holotable in the center looked ancient, but there was a new comms array wired into it, the shiny metal and bright lights standing out like a sore thumb against the table’s weathered surface. The small woman standing on the other side had a warm smile on her face.

“Captain Syndulla, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Padmé Amidala, I’m the Alliance’s Relations Chief.” Hera summoned a smile of her own.

“I’ve heard about you, Ma’am.” She said. It was an understatement; Padmé Amidala’s name was invoked throughout the Alliance whenever anyone spoke out against the Empire publicly. Hera didn’t know anyone who had met the woman herself, but she was famous, even in the Outer Rim.

“You must be wondering why you’re here?” Hera, lost in thought and the surreal situation, twitched at the sound of Amidala’s voice.

“Fulcrum didn’t say much, just that my team was needed here.” She said, covering her distraction. Amidala nodded.

“You are, Captain. An opportunity has arisen that the Alliance cannot afford to pass up. _You_ are critical to the success of our mission.” Hera frowned, catching the emphasis.

“My team is a package deal, Ma’am. We’re happy to serve the Alliance, but we do it together.” Amidala’s smile returned.

“Fulcrum said as much.” She said cheerily. “Don’t worry, Captain. While your piloting skills are why your team was called here, there will be work on this operation for all of them. Miss Wren is something of a detonations expert, isn’t she?” Hera nodded. “You’ve all been assigned to the mission, but you’re here alone because you’re the only one of your team who will be fully briefed.”

“I understand.” Said Hera. “We’ve been with the Alliance for a couple of years now, my team understands when secrecy is necessary.”

“Good. Two days ago, I was contacted by an engineer working for Incom Frei-Tek. He told me that his developmental team is in the final stages of constructing a new line of military snub fighters for the Empire. They have extensive shields, proton torpedoes, and, most importantly, they’re independently hyper-capable.”

Hera’s jaw dropped, the wheels of her mind spinning with possibility. Hyper-capable fighters were rare in themselves, and Hera had never heard of one so heavily armed, nor yet with both a hyperdrive and a full shield suite. Her A-wings, while dependable, had only the hyperdrive, and they felt the lack of shielding deeply.

“The engineer who contacted me is willing to divulge the location of the facility they’re being developed out of, in exchange for protection for himself and his family.” Continued Amidala. “We have a chance to set the Imperial Navy back several years while also acquiring the means to build a full starfighter corps. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how important that will be for our fleets.”

“No,” breathed Hera, “and you want _my_ help in stealing the plans?” Amidala shook her head.

“Incom has built two squadrons of tester fighters. _That’s_ what you’ll be helping to steal. We also need to acquire the plans for the fighter, as the full success of this mission depends on the Empire’s inability to produce the design for itself. Our sources tell us they’ve been in negotiations for these fighters for almost five years now.” This time, her smile was distinctly wicked. “Luckily for us, there are no copies of the schematics. In the interest of secrecy, of course.”

“Of course.” Said Hera. “Wouldn’t want any rebels to get their hands on a copy, after all.”

“Indeed.” Said Amidala. Her expression turned grave.

“I need to discuss one more matter with you, Captain, and I ask your forgiveness for any offense. It’s ordinarily not my place to question the command structures of individual teams, but in this case, I have to know.” Hera frowned. She knew what was coming, and it wasn’t going to be easy to answer. 

“Commander Sato and Fulcrum have told me a little about how your team functions, Captain.” Said Amidala. “I know your people prefer to work as independently as possible from the larger military chains of command.”

Hera nodded, unable to deny it. “I grew up on Ryloth and within the Free Ryloth movement, so I’m used to a structured hierarchy, but my team has some issues with authority.” Amidala nodded.

“Imperial academies will do that to you, I hear.” She said wryly. “Although your service and skills are an important part of this mission, Captain, you will not be in command, and you will be separated from your team for a significant portion of the operation.” The spark of humor in her brown eyes disappeared. “I need to know that your team will take the orders of their commanding officers without you there to smooth that relationship.”

That was the trick, wasn’t it?

Sabine was already unhappy about being here, she would like this even less. Kanan was something of a wild card, depending on how helpful to the Galaxy he considered the mission to be. Zeb would listen to Kanan when push came to shove, and Ezra-

Ezra disobeyed _Hera_ whenever it felt right to him, let alone some stick in the mud Alliance officer he didn’t know or trust. Chopper, thank the stars, would be with her the whole time, so there was no need to explain his _interesting_ programming.

But-

“They’ll understand how important this mission is.” She said. “They’ve seen brave pilots blown out of the sky for lack of maneuverability or shielding.” Even Sabine had remarked on their need for better fighters. Hera took a deep breath.

“As long as their orders are sound, and no one asks them to stand by as innocents are hurt, they’ll listen.” She finished. Well, mostly finished, anyway, because all of that was very conditional.

“That’s good to hear.” Said Amidala, relief in her wide brown eyes. “Thank you for indulging me, Captain.” The woman was very good at controlling her face; Hera honestly couldn’t tell whether she was projecting by her expressions alone. She probably _was_ , she was a politician by trade, but she was at least subtle about it.

Hera’s answer, unfortunately, depended on one very important factor. She knew it was probably inappropriate, but she couldn’t face her team if she didn’t find out all they were in for.

Gritting her teeth, she made herself ask, “Who-ah, if I may, who _is_ in command on this mission?” _Ancestors_ , let it not be Tharik or, Ancestors forbid, Atrela. She knew they were both involved with Fighter Command and both excellent pilots, but they were also both Imperial Navy defectors, used to a rigid command structure. And Kanan _hated_ Tor Atrela, had done ever since that disastrous mission on Malastare a year back.

“I am.” Said a new voice, as the door opened again.

Hera spun, her lekku smacking into her arms. The speaker was a tall human male with a face that had, once upon a time, been galactically famous. Though he was older now, and definitely not listed on any of the unaccounted-for lists, she recognized him.

“What did you, wait outside for me to set you up?” asked Amidala, sounding exasperated. Anakin Skywalker raised an eyebrow, stretching the thin white scar that ran through it.

“Only for a second.” He looked at Hera. “Captain Syndulla, it’s an honor. I’ve heard a lot about you. Fulcrum has a very high opinion of your flying.” Hera blinked a few times, realigning her worldview to include the fact that Anakin Skywalker was both alive and a rebel.

Well, at least it wasn’t an Imperial defector. Kanan had a complicated relationship with his past as a Jedi, though, and he didn’t talk about any of the actual Jedi he’d known. The mission to Stygeon Prime had been the first time he’d mentioned one by name in the years Hera had known him.

“Likewise, Master Skywalker.” She said, remembering her manners. “Watching the Aethersprites and Y-wings blow droid firebombers out of my home sky was what made me decide to become a pilot.”

“I’ll be handling the oversight and logistics from here, but General Skywalker has command on the ground.” Said Amidala. “After you split up to accomplish your objectives, Captain Andor will have immediate command of your team.”

“Cassian Andor’s good people.” Said Skywalker. “He won’t lead your team wrong.” Hera nodded.

“I’ll hold you to that, Master Jedi.” Skywalker pulled a face.

“’General’ is, fine, Captain. It’s been a long time since I called myself a Jedi.”

“Sure, General.” She said easily. After all, Kanan was the same way. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for them, when Order 66 went out. Kanan hadn’t been able to explain, the one time he’d tried. He’d just said it had been the worst day of his life.

“I’ll let you get back to your team, Captain.” Said Amidala, holding out a datapad. “You’ll find a full brief on this. Show it to no-one. The full team briefings will take place as soon as all of our pilots arrive.” She sighed. “We’ve been in contact with all the cells and squadrons we can fully trust. Finding the fourteen best pilots in the Alliance has been no easy task, but that’s what we’ll need to get the prototype T-65s off-world and past the Empire’s ISB anoobas.”

“So many?” asked Hera. It was a huge force for an espionage mission.

“And more.” Said Amidala. “Fourteen pilots, plus your other five team members and a few slicers, whose job will be to destroy the plans once we have an external copy. This is the biggest ground-level surgical strike the Alliance has ever attempted.” Hera took the datapad as Amidala continued.

“You’re under no obligations here, Captain, but if you and your team get bored with waiting around, find either of my children and they’ll find you something to do. Goddesses know, there’s always plenty.” She shrugged, a harried, slightly self-conscious smile flashing across her face.

“Now I know we’re with the Alliance.” Said Hera with a grin, turning to go.

Now, if only she knew what to say to her team. No small part of her wondered if they were in just a little over their heads here.

**

“I like her.” Said Padmé, after Syndulla had left the room. “And I didn’t know _you_ were back on-base.” Anakin grinned and kissed her hello, pressing her close to his chest.

“Just landed.” He murmured against her neck. “I thought I’d surprise you before the deck officer logs it in.”

“Mmm.” Said Padmé. “Color me surprised. How’s Obi-Wan?”

“He’s Obi-Wan.” Said Anakin, with a fond smile. “He and Quin are planning a strike at Kuat in the next few days, trying to get Director Isard’s attention off the Incom project.” Well, he and Quin and Asajj Ventress, but that was unofficial and nobody needed to know. Anakin kind of wished _he_ didn’t know.

He didn’t begrudge Obi-Wan any of the happiness he’d found, but he couldn’t pretend to like Ventress, even if he could trust her not to betray Obi-Wan to the Imps. Now. After several years.

“Oh, the dates we Rebels plan.” Padmé grinned momentarily, then sobered. “Kuat. That’s ambitious. I hope they’re being careful. Aside from being good friends, the Alliance can’t really afford to lose them.” Anakin sighed, running an absent hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I tried to talk them out of it, but Obi-Wan’s pretty sure there’s nothing less important that’ll get Isard’s personal attention, and Quin’s _really_ sure we won’t get near Ringo Vinda with that fanatic sniffing around like an anooba.” He ground his teeth at the thought of Ysanne Isard. Anooba was only a little unfair as a descriptor for the Empire’s most terrifyingly competent intelligence officer. “Your contact must be some actor, I can’t believe she hasn’t gotten to him already.”

“Oh, _that’s_ a comforting thought.” Said Padmé, managing to sound fairly blasé about it.

“What can I say,” said Anakin breezily, “I’m an optimist.” Padmé laughed once more, swatting at his upper arm. “Where are the twins?” he asked, and Padmé sighed, the laughter fading from her eyes.

“They’re showing Captain Syndulla’s team around at the moment. Before that, sulking.”

“They didn’t take it well, then.” He said. Padmé shook her head.

“Can you blame them?” she asked. “There’s no question that Luke is a good enough slicer to come on this mission, and Leia is frothing mad at being benched when Ahsoka’s going. She knows she’s good, Anakin.”

Anakin stepped away from her to lean his hands on the old holotable, using the stretch in his back muscles and the pressure on his left wrist to ground himself in the here and now. They’d had this discussion before he’d gone to meet Obi-Wan, and he’d known it would go like this, but that didn’t make their hurt any easier to handle.

“No one’s saying they aren’t good enough, just not experienced enough.” He said finally. “This isn’t a supply run or a negotiation, and if we fail, the lucky ones of us will get an opportunity to kill ourselves before we get turned over to the Interrogation Units.”

And he’d be one of those. Anakin had decided years ago that he’d put his lightsaber through his own skull before he’d go to his knees before Palpatine, and he was _not_ about to let Luke or Leia see that. Or make the choice themselves.

Padmé sighed. “I know that, Anakin, believe me. I agree with you on this, they shouldn’t go. But they grew up on Ahsoka’s stories. They know very well that she was younger than they were on all of your adventures together, and they’re starting to think we don’t believe in them.” Anakin pressed his knuckles to his temple, rubbing at the headache that had suddenly appeared, as if summoned by his children.

It might have been, actually. They were angry enough that it was leaking into the Force.

“Ahsoka leaves out the part where she’s had PTSD since she was fourteen.” He said, trying and mostly succeeding in keeping the bitter notes out of his tone. “I’m not reliving the Order’s mistakes in this fight, Padmé. I’m not gonna put child soldiers in the field, not like this. Luke handles Alliance negotiations by himself and Leia’s run I-don’t-know-how-many intelligence missions. If we didn’t trust in them, we wouldn’t give them responsibility like that.”

“Mmm, _we_ know that,” said Padmé, shaking her head, “but what they know is that they keep meeting kids like Cassian, who’s been running missions into enemy territory since he was fifteen. And,” she added, “they know the Alliance assigns missions to teenagers. Captain Syndulla’s two youngest team members are around their age. Safety’s sake, Ezra Bridger _is_ their age and he’s been undercover more than once since he joined up with Syndulla.” Anakin opened his mouth to argue, and Padmé held up a hand.

“All I’m saying is, we’re going to have to assign them permanently after this. They’re seventeen years old, and like it or not-and, _trust me_ , I don’t like it-they’re a part of a military organization now.” Her eyes cooled, vehemence clearing from them. “The longer we keep them attached to us, the less likely it will be they’ll ever earn the respect of the beings they fight with.”

Anakin took her hand, taken aback yet again by her pragmatism. When they’d been young, she had seemed so idealistic, but since finding her again, he’d come to realize that Padmé’s clear vision and passion weren’t so much idealistic as they were ruthlessly practical. She was, after all, the woman who’d had to be convinced to trade him for Greivous all those years ago. Nothing was more important to her than her duty to her people, whether they be Naboo, Alliance, or the Galaxy at large.

He loved her for that, but the shift in his perception of his wife still caught him off-guard sometimes.

“You’re right, my love.” He said softly, because she was. She usually was. “Assuming this op turns out all right, I’ll assign Leia to Dodonna’s command teams with Cassian. Padmé nodded, pensive.

“I was thinking about putting Luke with Bail. He and Ko-Iri get along well, and Bail could use another operative who knows how to negotiate.” Anakin nodded in agreement.

“Good.” Said Padmé, her tone businesslike. “Now that we’ve settled that, it’s officially been too long since the last time we had sex, General Skywalker. You need a shower, and I’m coming with you.” Anakin laughed aloud and swept her up into his arms.

“As my lady says.”

**

Well, the place was impressive. Kanan would give them that.

Beings of all species passed to and fro, more often than not waving a friendly hello to the girl who was leading them. Not quite a Jedi, she’d said she was, but she was a bright white star in the Force all the same, and she wore a pair of lightsabers, the twin silver hilts catching the light where they sat at the small of her back. They were little things, slim and graceful, made for Jar’kai, he thought.

He wondered who her master was. He knew there were Jedi involved with the Alliance; they’d met Ko-Iri Sayanti a couple of years ago on Tanaab. He knew there were more than her, too, but the Empire’s refusal to admit that any Jedi, including Kanan himself, had survived the Purges, made it hard to guess who they might be. Fulcrum, for instance, was probably a Jedi; it would have been near impossible for a non-Force Sensitive to pull off the ops Fulcrum did alone.

A few minutes into their ad hoc tour, Luke joined them again, settling in to walk next to Ezra and chatting animatedly with him. Like on Lothal, he shone like a sun in the Force, but Kanan didn’t see a lightsaber on him. If he carried one, he kept it out of sight.

Not as much of a Jedi as his sister, then. Maybe not one at all. He didn’t feel like a Jedi in the Force, but so few did, anymore, and the ones who did knew how to hide it from anyone who was trying to sense them.

“-and anyway, this is the mess.” Said Luke, gesturing to the door next to them. “Everybody kinda eats together, no officer/enlisted thing going on, but people mostly just sit with their friends on shift.”

“Where do you get supplies?” asked Sabine, her eyes on the massive room. It was easily big enough to feed a few hundred beings.

“Everywhere, really.” Said Leia. “I picked some up from smugglers on Toydaria last week. A lot of it is liberated from Imperial cargo and supply transports, though.” Her twin shrugged.

“It’s boring, but it works.” He said. “Personnel quarters are right around the corner. We put you guys in a suite of bunks with a shared common space, since you’ll be here a few days.” He led them down the corridor, his twin by his side. Ezra, who had until now been walking between them, dropped back, next to Kanan.

“This place is pretty cool, huh?” Kanan grit his teeth.

“It’s big, that’s for sure. I’ll feel better about it once I know why we’re here.” Ezra laughed.

“You’re always such a sourpuss.” He said. “They probably just want our help with some mission.”

“Yeah, that’s what worries me.” Said Kanan. “We’ve been active with Phoenix Squadron for two years now, and suddenly the Alliance is pulling us across the Galaxy to a full-sized base? Why now, what’s going on that’s so important?” Ezra shrugged.

“I’m sure we’ll find out when Hera’s back.”

Kanan was less sure, though he kept it to himself and let Ezra go back to the twins. In fact, he was willing to bet that he’d run up against a stone wall if he tried to get Hera to tell him what had gone on in this meeting of hers. She was used to and comfortable with compartmentalization, and if the higher-ups asked her to, she’d keep things from the team.

 _This_ was why Kanan hadn’t wanted to get involved in the larger movement. He trusted Hera, and knew she trusted him, but war was always a mess, for everyone involved.

Their rooms had once been clone barracks, Kanan thought, officer’s quarters by the hardline commlinks wired into the wall. He hadn’t found himself in one of these GAR complexes in the two months he’d been in the field during the War, but they looked about the same as a Jedi cruiser, or the older Imperial capital ships, for that matter.

But the bunks looked comfortable enough, and someone had set up privacy screens between them, so as to give at least the illusion that there were separate rooms.

The twins were fidgeting a little now, eager to be on their way.

“So,” said Leia. “You’re welcome to stick around here or if you get bored, come find one of us and we’ll find something to do.”

“We’re good at that.” Said Luke, a bright grin flashing across his face. “But fair warning, the brass are busy planning something pretty big right now, so everyone’s more on edge than normal. If you go anywhere alone, be ready to explain who you are.”

Kanan nodded, and the twins set off, leaving them alone. Chopper immediately ran full speed into Ezra’s leg, burbling something mocking.

“I did not!” he yelped. Zeb cackled.

“Ah, don’t worry,” he said, still laughing, “I’m sure there were some beings the next system over who didn’t notice you blushing.” Ezra turned bright red once again, but in indignation, not nervous pleasure, and threw himself at Zeb with a yell.

“Don’t tell me you’re okay with all this.” Murmured Sabine, taking advantage of the wrestling to settle herself onto a bunk. Kanan sighed and dropped down next to her.

“I’m-reserving judgment.” He said. “At least until we know what we’re in for.” She blew an annoyed puff of air up, the fringe of her hair fluttering.

“I gotta admit, though,” she said, “that hangar was pretty neat. They have quite a collection of ships.” She kept her tone noncommittal, but there was a wondering light in her eyes, all the same.

“More than we ever have, that’s for sure.” Said Kanan, unwilling to see the light die. “Maybe you can work on them later. Force knows, we won’t want to stick around this room the whole time we’re here.”

And then, he felt it.

Leia Amidala hadn’t felt like a Jedi, and neither had her twin. Though it had been many, many years since Kanan had been near enough to another true, Temple-raised Jedi to sense their presence, the feeling was unmistakable.

The Force _sung_ around him, warm and free, putting Kanan inexplicably in mind of sand and endless sky. Across the room, Ezra disengaged with Zeb and looked up.

“What-what is that?” he asked. Ignoring Sabine and Zeb’s confused glances and Chopper’s warble alike, Kanan closed his eyes a moment, but there was only one way to say it.

“It’s a Jedi, Ezra.” Ezra shook his head.

“No way. You’re a Jedi, and you don’t feel like _that_.” Kanan smiled without humor.

“I was a Jedi student, and barely even that, before Order 66. That being is a full Knight of the Order. Way more powerful than me.” Idly, he wondered who. As if triggered, Ezra asked,

“Who is it?”

Jedi who knew each other well could tell each other apart in the Force, but the only one Kanan had ever known like that was Master Billaba, by virtue of their training bond.

Well, and Ezra now, too.

Not this Knight, though. Kanan could sense his power, but he didn’t recognize any signature in his presence. Kanan shrugged. “I don’t know. Nobody I knew from the Temple, anyway.” Ezra turned away, his expression bright and curious, and Kanan heaved an internal sigh.

This complicated things. Ezra would want to talk to him, and it wasn’t fair of Kanan to keep the kid away from all things Jedi, but-

Well. Kanan wasn’t sure he was ready to face judgment for the way he’d been, between the Fall of the Republic and finding Hera. Or after meeting Hera, for that matter. He didn’t regret it, could never regret _her_ , but he knew it wasn’t the way a Jedi behaved, either.

 _Buck up, Jarrus_ , he thought viciously. This wasn’t about him and his baggage, it was about the rebellion, about Hera and her fight, _their_ fight. He’d deal with whatever Jedi disapproval he needed to. He was a grown man with a family and a cause, dammit. He didn’t need approval from his childhood masters.

 _Except you do, Caleb. What did Master Billaba say to you, just before she died?_ The voice was in his head, and it sounded like the Grand Inquisitor. He shook his head to clear it, hoping Hera would be back soon, with answers.

She _was_ back soon, toting a datapad and grinning like a kid. Even Forceblind as she was, Kanan could feel her excitement.

“We’ve been asked to be a part of the biggest espionage plot the Alliance has ever attempted.” She said, dropping onto the bunk across from Kanan and Sabine. Ezra leaned in, around a post, but she kept the datapad well out of his line of sight. “Some of the details are need to know until later, but we’re going on a retrieval mission, technology with the potential to change the playing field out here.” Sabine frowned.

“What exactly are we doing?” she asked.

“We’ll be infiltrating an Imperial facility, acquiring the tech, destroying the Empire’s records, and then leaving.”

“Just us?” asked Kanan, wary. She shook her head.

“No. there will be more than twenty operatives total. Like I said, it’s a huge operation. They’re pulling specialists from cells around the Galaxy.” Kanan raised an eyebrow.

“Specialists?”

“Pilots.” Clarified Hera. “But they want you four for the ground team, if you’re willing?” At Kanan’s glance, she added. “I’m going. This is important, and if we pull it off, it will be a hell of a story to tell one day.”

“Well,” said Kanan, “you’re not going anywhere without me, Hera. One question, though, who’s in charge of this giant espionage mission?” Hera grinned even wider.

“Chief Amidala is handling oversight and logistics from here. General Skywalker has command of the pilots, and-“ Zeb cut her off.

“Wait, Skywalker? Wasn’t there some Jedi from the Clone Wars named that? Some _dead_ Jedi?”

Jedi. Jedi, Jedi, Jedi. Kanan couldn’t decide whether to giggle like a youngling or drop his head into his hands.

Of course he’d never met the Jedi on-base with them now. He’d been too busy _saving the karking Galaxy_ to have spent much time at the Temple during the War. Ezra, sensing his mixed emotions, looked over at him, concerned.

“You okay, Kanan?” he asked. Kanan flapped a hand.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t know Master Skywalker was still alive, that’s all.” Hera snorted.

“I didn’t either.” She said. “Anyway, you guys will be directly under an intelligence officer, Captain Cassian Andor. I’ll make sure you get introduced. The mission won’t go off until the rest of the pilots get here.”

They kept talking, asking Hera every conceivable question about the mission. Just as Kanan had predicted, she told them exactly as much as she wanted to, and no more. Kanan understood the need for secrecy, even compartmentalization on a mission this big, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

He was too busy agonizing ov- _thinking about_ -Skywalker’s presence to worry about it anyhow. He didn’t get a whole lot of breathing space between Hera taking Sabine and Zeb to get food and Ezra leaning in and demanding,

“Okay, Kanan, spill! I know you know something about this Jedi guy!” his eyes were pleading. “C’mon, this is the first – how’d you say it – _Temple raised_ Jedi I’ve ever met. You talked Luminara Unduli up like crazy before we found out-well, anyway, tell me about him!” Kanan leaned back, raking a hand through his hair.

“That was because I thought I was gonna get to dump you on her, remember?” he said, teasing. He sobered, though, when Ezra kept looking excited. “Look, kid, don’t – don’t get your hopes too high, alright? There are a lot of legends out there, and none of ‘em really live up to the talk, at least in my experience.” Ezra frowned.

“What are you saying?” he asked. “I barely know anything about the Jedi Knights, you don’t exactly talk about them much.” He narrowed his eyes. “What, is this guy a jerk or something? ‘Cause I’ve got some pranks that I’ve been wanting to try, and Sabine’s always into that and-“

“Hold up, Ezra.” Said Kanan, cutting him off. “I’m not saying anything, just – I know I’ve been teaching you the ways of the Jedi, but I haven’t exactly, well, I haven’t really been teaching you to be a Jedi Knight, at least not the way they were when I was a kid.” The remnants of wicked laughter fell off of Ezra’s expressive face, leaving only confusion, and Kanan took a deep, steeling breath. “The Jedi Order, it had a lot of rules, Ezra. There are a lot of things I’ve done, I’ve _taught_ you to do, that a Jedi Knight wouldn’t do. All I’m saying is, don’t be surprised if Master Skywalker isn’t exactly impressed with a couple of feral Force-users like us.”

After all, he was _Anakin Skywalker,_ brilliant commander, best-duelist-in-the-Order, one of only two Jedi in living memory to have killed a Sith, basically everything a youngling aspired to be. No matter how often the creche masters told them patience was a Jedi’s greatest asset, behind the Force, of course, Kanan had once gone to bed every night wishing to be a Knight already, a Knight that could stand on an even footing with Those Two.

Karabast. What the hell was he supposed to do with this, huh? Really, he ought to just let Ezra meet the man. He’d make a better Master than Kanan, surely. Ahsoka had been by far the coolest of their minders at the Temple, and _she’d_ been his Padawan.

Kanan didn’t want that, though. He loved Ezra, was proud of Ezra, definitely didn’t want Ezra to figure out what a fraud he was by comparison to a real Jedi. Ezra himself, though, had a worrying glint in his dark eyes.

“Well,” he said darkly, “ _I_ say you’re a Jedi, and so did the Lothal Temple, so there. That guy, whoever he used to be, can say whatever he wants.”


	2. Something Like a First Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra and Sabine do some socializing.

Ezra guessed he shouldn’t really be surprised. 

He’d liked Luke Amidala a lot on Lothal, thought he was about the smartest, nicest person he’d ever met. And his eyes were a really nice shade of blue. And he had great hair, a golden blond that caught the Lothal sun and moons alike. 

So, really, it only made sense to dream about the guy their first night on Dantooine. After all, Ezra could feel his presence in the Force even now, and he’d sat with them at dinner and talked to all of them, but mostly to Ezra. 

It did make for an awkward start to the day, though, dreaming about Luke’s hair and eyes and-everything else. And it meant Ezra was desperate for something distracting to do.

Nobody else was awake, he noticed, climbing down from his bunk. Zeb was still snoring like a sublight engine, one of Hera’s lekku was hanging off the side of her and Kanan’s bunk, shifting with her breath, and Sabine’s bright hair had fallen out of its part and was splayed across her face. Even Chopper was still in sleep-mode. He could and did wake himself up, but Ezra guessed yesterday had been just as tiring for him as for the team’s organics. 

The crew was still in Dreamland by the time Ezra had brushed his teeth, so he left them a note and wandered down the hall, heading vaguely in the direction of the hangar they’d come in through yesterday. He’d check on the _Ghost,_ first, then see if he couldn’t find himself a fun job. And maybe he’d do a little _investigating_ on this mission of theirs while he was at it, too. Hera’d been tight-lipped about the whole thing and Ezra damn-well wanted to know what they were in for before they got into it. 

The _Ghost_ was right where Hera’d left her last night after the bug sweep, settled amongst the other mismatched freighters in the hangar. She’d been gently searched last night as well, under Hera’s watchful eye, but Ezra was still happy to note that the Rebel security guys had managed to put all of his stuff back where it belonged. Nothing of his or Zeb’s was missing, either. He honestly didn’t get what Kanan and Sabine were so keyed up over. So far, these big Alliance brass didn’t seem different from Commander Sato’s battle group. 

In fact, Ezra liked it better here, if anything. Luke Amidala and his twin sister weren’t around Phoenix Squadron. 

What he _was_ worried about, a little, was Kanan’s Jedi. Anything that could get under Kanan’s tough-guy exterior and make him look like a little kid was something to be on-guard about, as far as Ezra was concerned. And Ezra didn’t care what being a _temple-raised_ Jedi meant one bit, not if this guy thought he was better than Kanan. 

was a better teacher than Kanan. 

The _Ghost_ seen to, Ezra climbed back out into the main hangar space. It was still early enough that only the on-shift crew was down here, no extras or Big Brass wandering around. As he walked past a battered Y-wing starfighter, though, an annoyed-looking guy with a datapad stepped in front of him.

“You’re not on my shift.” He snapped. “What are you doing down here?” Ezra shrugged. 

“My crew arrived yesterday, I was checking on our ship.” He pointed at the _Ghost_ , over his shoulder. The guy’s eyes narrowed.

“Sure you were.” He said, snotty. “I don’t care how many times you kids try, you’re not taking off unauthorized. This is a military base, not a joyriding service.” Ezra blinked, startled.

“Do beings-do that?” he asked, nonplussed. “Like-a lot?” Ezra had seen planetsec take a couple of Vizago’s slower pilots out of the sky for taking off from the spaceport in Capital City without authorization. You could get away with stuff like that in the grasslands, but not the cities. Somehow, Ezra’d thought the Rebel Alliance was a little more paranoid than Lothal planetsec, but apparently not, if all that happened was a little irritation on this guy’s part.

“You might think you’re something special, you Jedi brats,” growled the guy-deck officer, probably- “but you just remember, the sun doesn’t shine outta all of your holes just ‘cause you have a laser-sword and you pal around with Command. Now get the hell out of my hangar.” 

“But-“

“Out!” 

After a look at the officer’s red face and throbbing vein, Ezra decided it wasn’t really worth it. He’d come back on the next shift. 

Still, he had to wonder what Luke and Leia got up to, if that was the deck officer’s opinion of them.

“Ignore him, kid.” Came a new voice. The speaker was standing a few meters away, a tall human male with a shaven head who Ezra assumed had been on-shift. A female togruta stood next to him, leaning easily on a computer console. Ezra, still confused, walked over. 

“Lieutenant Wert’s been pulling double duty a couple of days now.” Said the togruta, her expression rueful. “One of the other deck-officers has got – well, he’s sick, is the important part. Wert’s not normally that much of a jerk.” 

“He, uh, didn’t seem to like the Amidala twins much.” Ezra answered, hoping she’d tell him why. 

“Luke and Leia?” the togruta shook her head, smiling slightly, but it was the human who spoke. “They, ah, _borrowed_ the General’s swoop bike yesterday morning, while Wert was on duty. I’d imagine Commander Neyera ripped him a couple of new holes over it.” He was full-on grinning, no sympathy for the deck officer, apparently.

Ezra blinked, impressed by Luke and Leia’s daring. Even he’d never tried to borrow Kanan’s swoop bike without permission. Then again, maybe this ‘General’ hadn’t put as much time into the bike as Kanan had put into his heavily-modified T-85. As if she’d heard his thought, the togruta laughed. 

“Lucky they didn’t crash it and get themselves blown up.” She said. “If there’s a part on that bike he didn’t remove the safety mods from, I’ll eat my boot.” She grinned at Ezra. “I’m Ahsoka. This is Rex. You’re Ezra Bridger, aren’t you?” 

“How did you-“ and then she let her shields down a crack, and he could feel her in the Force. At the same time, she walked around the console so that Ezra could see the twin lightsaber hilts hanging on her hips. “Oh, never mind.” He muttered, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Is your master around, Ezra?” asked Ahsoka. “I’d like to talk to him.” Ezra frowned, remembering Kanan’s face yesterday. Ahsoka didn’t feel like the other Jedi had, but that didn’t mean much. She was hanging around here and she knew the deck-officer, so she was probably some kinda fancy Jedi anyway.

“Not around here.” He said, shrugging. “Last I saw, he was still asleep anyway. You can talk to me, though.” She laughed easily, her sharp incisors catching the hangar’s white lumas.

“You’re plucky, kid. No wonder Luke likes you.” Ezra blinked again. 

“Did he-did he say that?” he asked, before he could bite it back. _Blast it._ Ahsoka and Rex were both grinning, now. “Who are you, anyway?” he asked, changing the subject before he could say anything more embarrassing. 

“I’m Ahsoka.” 

“Yeah, you already said that.” He’d meant _what_ was she, but that felt like the wrong question.

“Search your feelings, then, Ezra. What am I?” There was still a smile on her face, but now there was a gleam of challenge in her eyes to go with it. And Ezra wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. He closed his eyes and reached out, feeling for her in the Force. She felt like Kanan did, bright and cool. She reminded him of the little creeks that ran through some of the mountains back home, sparkling and dancing back and forth among the rocks. 

“You’re-not a Jedi, are you?” 

“I was, once. Not anymore. I’m a Rebel, like you and your master and your crew.” 

“Ahsoka?” that was Kanan’s voice, coming from behind Ezra. He spun around to find Kanan standing a few meters off, pure surprise written on his face. 

“Hello Caleb.” Said Ahsoka, still smiling. Kanan’s face shut down at the unfamiliar name, though, and he started forward again. He stopped just behind Ezra and dropped a hand onto his shoulder. 

“It’s Kanan.” He said shortly. “I hope Ezra wasn’t bothering you.” Ahsoka shook her head. 

“Not at all, I was hoping to see you while you’re here.” Her smile went a little sad, and Ezra thought she might be telling the whole story for the first time since she’d introduced herself. “It’s always good to see old friends.” 

Some of Kanan’s guarded expression relaxed as he felt what Ezra did, that she was genuine. “Likewise. I didn’t know you were with the rebellion.” 

“Wish I could say the same, but I’ve been waiting for our paths to cross ever since you blew up Tarkin’s star destroyer.”

“No kidding.” Said Rex. Kanan’s gaze flicked sideways at the man, but he didn’t say anything. His shields went even tighter than they usually were, which was saying something, as Kanan had a hard time letting them down when he wanted to share with Ezra, let alone normally. 

“Ezra, did you already check on the _Ghost?_ ” asked Kanan, pointedly ignoring both of them. 

“Yep.” Said Ezra, ginning innocently at Kanan. Nobody was getting rid of him that easy. “Everything’s still fine, nobody messed with her overnight.” Kanan muttered something that sounded like ‘small mercies,’ and Rex’s eyes narrowed.

“No one’s going to mess with your ship.” He said, his brow furrowed. There was a wicked scar on his temple, curling around his eye and up past his hairline, Ezra noticed. “You’re part of the rebellion, we don’t do that to our own.” Kanan’s hand tightened on Ezra’s shoulder, and Ezra felt him snort, though he doubted Rex or Ahsoka noticed. 

“Anyway,” said Ahsoka breezily, “you’re going to have a few days before the operation kicks off; I was hoping you and Ezra might join me for a sparring session sometime before you leave.” She winked, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Promise I won’t mess you up too badly.” 

To Ezra’s surprise, Kanan grinned at her, the same predatory smile she’d turned on Ezra not five minutes ago. “Same promise.” he said, hand still tight on Ezra’s shoulder. “I’d like that.” 

“Good, it’s a date then. I’ll come by your quarters around 2030 tonight.” 

“Hey,” said Ezra, offended. “You’re taken, you know!” He elbowed Kanan in the stomach for emphasis. Ahsoka laughed outright as Kanan shoved him forward with a grunt of surprise. 

“Don’t worry, Ezra, he’s not really my type. You should come too, it’ll be fun.” 

“Come on, brat, let’s go find some caf.” Said Kanan, rolling his eyes. His gaze flickered back to Ahsoka for a split second. “Tonight.” 

“Looking forward to it, Cal-Kanan.” She said. With that, she and Rex turned as one, back to the console they’d been bent over when Ezra had come in. 

Kanan’s shoulders stayed ramrod-straight as they left the hangar, so Ezra had to ask – 

“Who is she?” Kanan’s eyes were suddenly far away.

“She was a Jedi Padawan, back when I lived at the Temple.” He said softly. “She used to come in and teach us when she was on Coruscant, but mostly she fought in the War.”

“Well, it’s cool she isn’t dead, then, isn’t it?” asked Ezra. “Or is she one of those stuck-up Jedi you were talking about yesterday?” she hadn’t seemed all that stuck-up, just a little unnerving.

“No, it’s –“ Kanan ran a hand over the back of his head. “It’s good to see her again, she’s not much like I remember her being.” He sighed. “We all grew up, I guess.” 

He sounded so weird, not the gruff asshole Ezra knew and loved, but sad and young. Disconcerted, Ezra punched him in the shoulder.

“Hey, everyone gets old, Old Man.” And then Kanan was back, glaring daggers.

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that, Bridger?” 

**

Sabine woke up late, unused to the light and air cycles on the compound. Everyone who lived here had called it a base, but ‘base’ felt too close to the Empire’s military structure for Sabine’s comfort, so she thought she’d keep using ‘compound’ instead. 

Anyway, it wasn’t much like any Imperial base Sabine had ever seen, and she’d seen several on Mandalore and along the Hydian Way before she’d flamed out of the Academy. Here, no-one was wearing a uniform. The beings who flitted in and out of Sabine’s field of vision as she sat in the Mess were colorful and individual. Even those of them who wore standard work clothes, like the on-duty pilots in their flightsuits, had added patches, ribbons, and the odd bit of embroidery to their gear in order to single themselves out. All of them wore the Rebels’ insignia on their right shoulders, though, and Sabine had to smile at the familiar imagery.

The artwork was undoubtedly Mando’a, and _old_ Mando’a at that, the sort of sharp points and fanciful lines that suggested the shape of something rather than really defining it. From one angle, she thought, it looked a little like the Starbird she had inked on her left pauldron. Whatever it was meant to be, it conveyed a fierce sort of pride, the kind that made Sabine think of her mother, dark head raised against the Imperial invasion of her home.

Idly, she wondered which of Bo-Katan Kryze’s warriors had designed it. 

“Hey,” came a voice, startling Sabine out of her train of thought, “Sabine, right?” Her head snapped around to find the blond kid from yesterday, Luke Amidala, bouncing on the balls of his feet a few feet away, a bowl in his hands. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” She answered, wary. The kid had been friendly to all of them, if a little more so to Ezra, but that didn’t mean Sabine was going to trust him. He was well-connected here, son of the Rebellion’s Chief of Staff, and if he was talking to her, he had a reason. 

“Mind if I have breakfast with you?” he asked, eyes full of polite interest. Sabine felt her own narrow.

“I’m not great company before I’ve had caf.” She said, nodding to her steaming cup. He shrugged, face still open. 

“No worries.” He said easily. “My sister’s busy and the base is pretty empty right now, but I hate eating alone, so I thought I’d ask you.” After a moment, Sabine nodded, and he slid onto the bench across from her. “Your armor is awesome,” he said after a minute or so of mildly awkward quiet. “Did you do it yourself?” Sabine grinned, in spite of herself. If he wanted to talk about art, she wouldn’t refuse.

“Yeah, I repaint it every few months. Did this set last week.”

“It’s beautiful.” He said, sincere. “I wish I could make things like that.” Sabine shrugged.

“A lot of it’s just research and practice.” She said. “You could probably learn. Besides,” she added, nodding to the plum-colored cuffs he wore on his forearms, “you’ve already got a talent for colors.” Luke laughed, ducking his head.

“Thanks. I learned from my Mom, she loves fashion.” Sabine raised an eyebrow.

“Chief Amidala, huh?” she asked. He nodded, unselfconscious. “Must be hard for her out here, then; there aren’t really occasions for fun clothes.” Luke shook his head.

“Mom says it’s not about how fancy your things are, it’s about what you do with what you have. She doesn’t have most of her clothes from back home now, but she picks up little things here and there anyway. She likes the colors, what you can say to other people with them.” He shrugged. “It’s important on Naboo, you know, we use colors to express messages.” 

Sabine found herself leaning forward, interested despite her misgivings about the kid. She could see why Ezra liked him so much. 

“I haven’t spent much time around the Naboo, I didn’t know. My people do something similar, though, we used to use art to communicate. Now, it makes up our clan and house emblems, and everyone’s own personal sigils are really important to them.” She tapped the Starbird on her shoulder. “This is me. I painted it for the first time after I left the Academy.” Luke leaned over, peering at the crimson sigil. 

“It looks free.” He said eventually, sounding older than he had any right to. Then, he shook himself, a bright smile jumping back onto his face. “It’s wicked.” 

“What’s it like, living here?” Sabine asked, curious. “It seems like it’d be pretty exciting, especially since your Mom’s the Chief of Staff.” Luke snorted.

“I wish.” He said. “My parents don’t tell Leia and I anything. They don’t think we’re _ready for the responsibility._ ” He rolled his eyes. “It’s like they forget we’ve been in dangerous situations before.” He flapped a hand at her. “I mean, look at you guys, Captain Syndulla runs operations with you and Ezra and we’re the same age. But Dad’s afraid we’ll break or something if he lets us do _anything._ ” 

“Can’t you talk to Command about it?” asked Sabine. “Seems like you Rebels need all the help you can get and it’s not like you have minimum age requirements.” 

Luke laughed bitterly. “Dad _is_ Command, he runs a whole Ops division.” He said. “Plus, nobody outside Ops would take me anyway because no one wants to be the commander who gets the Chief’s kid killed.” He sighed, frustrated. “If I could just get on _one_ mission, I could show them I’ve got what it takes, like they do. I’ve been training since I was a kid, and Colonel Rieekan says I’m a better shot than half his A-Wing pilots.”

“We should take the _Phantom_ out for a spin.” Said Sabine, wanting to change the subject away from the politics of the Rebellion. “Betcha I can hit more targets.” Luke grinned. 

“Can we bring Ezra too?” he asked, managing to keep his voice neutral. Sabine saw a tinge of pink in his cheeks, though. Had he been Ezra, she’d have teased, but he wasn’t, so she just grinned. 

“I’m sure he’d be interested. We’re allowed to make a practice run, right? I hear you Rebels can get picky about unauthorized takeoffs.” Luke laughed.

“As long as Deck Officer Wert’s not on duty anymore, we should be good. He’s still steamed at me and Leia for taking Dad’s bike out yesterday.” He grinned, wicked. “Dad’s not exactly happy about it either, but if he doesn’t want us borrowing it, he shouldn’t make it so easy to hotwire.” 

Sabine laughed. “You’ve got guts, kid. Even Ezra hasn’t tried stealing Kanan’s bike yet.” Luke shrugged.

“It was Leia’s idea, but I did the wiring. Anyway, it didn’t get scratched or anything and we refueled it, I don’t see what the big deal is.” 

“A guy after my own heart.” Said Sabine, grinning. “Let’s find Ezra and –“ She cut off as Luke’s eyes went wide, looking over Sabine’s shoulder, toward the door. She turned to find Luke’s twin sister standing just inside and glaring thunderously at her brother. Leia marched forward, her back ramrod-straight, and slammed her palms onto the table. 

“He’s here.” She snapped. “Just saw him in the hangar. I almost fell into the trash chute when he came around the side of the U-Wings. He's just - _back here_ like he comes by once a week, Luke, I could _strangle_ him with my bare hands!” Luke held up placating hands.

“I didn’t think he was – “ He broke off, backpedaling as Leia’s expression grew yet more incendiary, “okay, okay, I was wrong, I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t catch the whole conversation. Did you talk to him?” Leia’s fist clenched on the table.

“I ducked behind a console and stared at him like a Gizga, Luke, _what do you think?_ We haven’t seen him in _five years_ and he waltzes back here with Cassian like he never karking left!” She spat something in what Sabine thought was Huttese, and Luke choked on a laugh.

“No, no, sorry, not laughing at you, just –“ Leia renewed her glare. 

“Sorry,” said Sabine, feeling the need to intervene, as she recognized Leia’s expression as something that could only be described as ‘detonation imminent,’ “did I miss something?” 

Leia jumped on the chance to unload her rage. “Karking Han Solo took off for the Outer Rim with Cassian as soon as he made Lieutenant ‘cause he wanted to be some kind of spacer, _apparently,_ which means he does _not_ get to breeze back onto base and act like he belongs here like we're all just stupid kids again!” 

“Come on, Ley, it’s not like he – “ Luke cut off as his sister’s brown gaze went molten. Sabine wondered if there could really be steam coming out of the girl’s ears or if it was her imagination. Maybe she was only half-human; it wasn’t uncommon and Sabine didn’t know anything about Luke and Leia’s father. 

“Okay, okay,” said Luke, not even bothering to sound sincere, “he’s the Galaxy’s worst friend and he’s the most annoying person probably ever.” His hands snapped up to hold off Leia’s irate response even as he spoke. “Wanna go shoot things? Sabine and Ezra offered to take us in their ship, we wouldn’t even get in trouble.”

Leia shrugged. 

“I don’t know, I could go for getting in trouble.” She said darkly. Sabine blinked, surprised at the tone. “Shooting stuff sounds good though, let’s do that.”

They found Ezra in one of the larger common areas in the compound’s residential sector, hip deep in kids. 

There were only five, actually, but they were all crowded around Ezra and clamoring for his attention. Beside Sabine in the doorway, Luke laughed. 

“You found all the kids on base, huh?” he asked. Ezra grinned, embarrassed, and ran a hand along the back of his head. 

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes rueful, “kids just kinda – stick to me, you know?” 

One of the smaller ones, an orange-skinned twi’lek, tugged at Ezra’s belt. “Show us your lightsaber!” she cried, her high voice imperious. 

“How’d you even get in here?” asked Sabine, while Ezra gently pried her hands from his belt, explaining that the lightsaber was dangerous. He looked up at her question, aggrieved.

“Kanan took his caf and went to find Hera, so I came down here ‘cause that Lieutenant guy yelled at me last time I tried to see the _Ghost._ ” The twi’lek, annoyed with Ezra’s divided attention, spun around with a huff and marched over to a corner. The other four followed her at a more sedate pace, punching each other and dodging out of the way as they went.

Luke laughed again. “Sorry, Ezra, I think that’s our fault.” He said, jabbing a thumb at his sister. Sabine heard real sheepishness in his tone, but Leia looked unrepentant. “We might have made his job kinda difficult yesterday.” 

“I heard.” Said Ezra. “According to him, you two are a couple of entitled little brats.”

Leia rolled her eyes.

“If he wants to avoid getting dressed down, he ought to pay more attention to his access chips.” She said, matter of fact. 

Sabine kept her expression neutral, but she was beginning to understand why the Twins’ parents didn’t think they were ready to be in the field. They were fun, sure, but they were also just a little too confident, carefree, _childish_ to have been in battle. Still, there was no other way they’d learn. Maybe there were issues with Mando’a children learning to fight before they could walk, but Sabine had been prepared to obey honorable commands long before she’d gone to the Academy. 

Dishonorable orders, like the ones she’d gotten _at_ the Academy, were another matter entirely.

“We’re gonna take the _Phantom_ out and shoot clays, want to come?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Ezra. 

“Uh, yeah, sure!” 

“Cool!” piped Luke, grinning. “I was hoping you’d want to come!” Ezra tried not to grin in response and ended up looking kind of like he’d been hit over the head. “Sabine bet me she could hit more targets than I could, wanna put some money on me beating you?” 

At that, Ezra’s bashfulness vanished and a cocky smile took its place. 

“On the _Phantom’s_ guns? No way, Amidala, they’re partial to me. Betcha whatever you want.”

Sabine laughed.

“Careful what you wager, I’m in on this too.” she said lightly, punching Ezra in the arm. He narrowed his eyes at her, but with a glance at Luke, he grinned again.

“I can take you too, ‘Bean.” 

“For that, you little brat, I’m gonna crush you.” She leaned in as the Twins led the way out of the room and added, very quietly, “In front of him and _everything._ ”

As they entered the hangar, Sabine couldn’t help eyeing the guards. Commander Sato’s flagship had a military-style hangar too, of course, but Sabine knew all of the guards there, knew their names, their kids’ names, and their hobbies. She _knew_ them, and she never had to worry they were going to grab her arm and ask her what the hell she was doing there. 

It was the not knowing that killed her. She knew an Imp guard would grab her. She knew Sato’s wouldn’t; they were like family in Phoenix Squadron. These Rebels, these Big Brass Former Senator and Former Jedi Master Rebels, they were more used to the Old Republic than they were to a free Galaxy. 

And every Mando’a warrior knew _damn_ well what the Old Republic was. 

The chill along her spine didn’t let up the whole time they were crossing the big space, but no-one stopped them. Despite their misadventures here previously, the Twins walked in with their heads held high. As they made their way to the _Ghost’s_ berth, techs, pilots, and duty officers alike waved, greeting the pair of them with smiles just as easy as Phoenix Squad’s. 

Luke, in particular, had greetings of his own. He spoke to all of the wavers, asking after spouses, children, or friends. He was a charismatic kid, and he reminded Sabine, in some strange way, of her older brother, raised to lead his clan practically from birth. His sister was just as self-possessed, but less friendly; her chin had a decidedly regal tilt and she walked with the confidence of a woman who could fight every being in the room and win. 

It was kind of hot, actually. Leia herself was a little too immature for Sabine’s taste, but her confidence lent her a striking air.

Luke found the deck officer and did his whole routine with her, smiling his genuine smile and asking about her wife and kid, back on Brentaal. She answered cheerily enough, but then she raised a knowing eyebrow.

“Now, what do you want, Luke?” Luke blinked at her, innocent.

“I just wanna get out from under everyone’s feet, Officer.” He said easily. “We don’t have duty assignments the rest of the day, and these guys just got here with their team yesterday. Leia and I thought it’d be better to escort them if they’re gonna practice with live fire.” 

Ezra shrugged when the deck officer looked him over. 

“We’re supposed to be on a mission in a few days and it’s been awhile since we took the _Phantom_ out and cleared the dust out of the gun barrels.” Sabine nodded her agreement. Hera kept both the _Ghost_ and the _Phantom_ in combat-ready shape, but the deck officer didn’t need to know that. 

The officer shrugged, tucking an escaped lock of hair back into her bun. 

“You can have two hours. Don’t go getting close to the towers, they’re jumpy this week with all the arrivals. And keep a low profile, nothing heavier than front guns. We don’t need to trip anyone’s sensors, okay?”

Luke tossed her a salute, grinning. 

“Sure, Officer. No explosives, stay away from the towers. We’ll be back by 1500.” 

“I’ll hold you to that, Luke. Now go on, get off my deck.” She waved them toward the _Ghost._

The _Phantom’s_ cockpit was a squeeze for four, but they could make it work. Sabine took them out of the hangar nice and slow, mindful of the deck officer’s warning. She didn’t want any jumpy gunner to mistake them for a spy and blow them out of the sky. 

“Do you guys even know how to fly in vacuum?” asked Sabine, suddenly conscious of how little she knew about them. Luke laughed.

“Sure, ‘course I do. Mom started teaching me when I was little and you don’t spend much time around Dad without learning. He’s kind of obsessive about it.”

Ezra grinned. “I hear you, Hera’s the same way. Is your dad a starfighter pilot?”

“Dad’s an anything pilot.” Said Leia. “We can both fly anything the Rebellion has that’s smaller than a troop transport. Luke is the atmosphere head, though. I like to feel the wind on my face when I fly.” Luke rolled his eyes.

“She’d be a podracer if she could get away with it.” Leia sniffed.

“And I’d be good at it, too.” Despite her remark, though, the other girl’s face brightened when Dantooine’s gray atmosphere gave way to the velvet-black of space. The _Phantom_ seemed to share her enthusiasm, humming with power as the planet’s gravity fell away. Sabine took the ship along the vector the deck officer had given them, wary of patrols. The local Rebels probably had the _Ghost’s_ current signal flagged as friendly, but she wasn’t taking chances. 

“Okay,” she said after about twenty minutes of letting Ezra try to flirt with Luke, “this is the spot. Who’s going first?” 

An hour and a half later, Sabine regretted the bet she’d made. Luke’s boyish face and innocent grins hid a hellishly good shot, and his scores were as near to perfect as Sabine had ever seen anyone make, back home, at the Academy, or with Phoenix Squadron. Kanan, maybe, could have done as well. On a good day. 

And Luke didn’t even use a targeting computer. Leia held the lightsabers, but Luke was clearly just as much a Jedi as she was, and rather more of one than Ezra, if his targeting scores were anything to go by. 

As if her regret had rung bells in his head, Luke turned that disarming smile on her. 

“That was fun!” he said, still grinning. “I take tabs or chip transfers. Or, if you like, I accept payment in favors.” 

“What kinda favors?” asked Ezra, looking sheepish. “I’m fresh out of pocket money.” Sabine fought the urge to put her head in her hands. That one hadn’t even been _on purpose, Ezra, come on._

Luke turned bright pink.

“Uh-well, n-normally it’d be cleaning duty or-but, I guess you don’t even really have duty, so-“ he trailed off, a desperate look in his eye. 

“Kriff, Luke, just ask him to eat dinner with you and save us some awkward.” Said Leia, whose mood seemed to have been improved by exploding clays. “Ezra, my brother thinks you’re cute, he hasn’t shut up about it since you showed up.” Yeah, definitely happier, there was a distinctly mischievous glint in her brown eyes.

Both of them were glowing red now, but it was Ezra who managed to cobble a sentence together first.

“W-wanna have dinner in the Mess? It’s gotta be early, I told Kanan I’d spar with him at 2030, but I definitely, um, would like to, uh, g-get to know you? Better?” Luke’s smile, this time, was shy and small, and somehow more genuine even than his natural sun-bright grin. 

“I’d like that. And, if you mean the session with Ahsoka, don’t worry about it, we have to be there too.” 

“You know Ahsoka?” asked Ezra, blush forgotten. 

“Sure.” Answered Leia. She unhooked the lightsabers from the small of her back and waggled them. “She’s my teacher. Plus, she’s one of Dad’s best friends, she’s basically our aunt.” 

“I met her this morning.” Said Ezra, bringing some clarity to Sabine. So that’s where he’d been this morning, exploring the potentially hostile military base. Good, Kanan would _love that._ “She’s kinda spooky. Cool, but spooky.” 

“She grew up a Jedi, they’re all a little spooky.” Said Luke, matter-of-fact. “At least, all the ones we know are.” 

Sabine wondered just how many Jedi they did know. They were all supposed to be dead, Kanan said he’d been just a kid and lucky as all hells to have lived through the end of the Clone Wars. But this Ahsoka was a Jedi, and Kanan’s Jedi, Skywalker, was with the Alliance too. If those two were alive, how many more might be with them?

Hera was waiting for them when Sabine set the _Phantom_ down. Ezra winced as he caught sight of her expression, and he grinned, apologetic, at her as they came down the gangway. 

“I hope you made sure those gun barrels were nice and clean.” She said, raising an eyebrow. Ezra ran a hand across the back of his neck. 

“We, uh, we were just trying to stay out of the way, like you said.” He shrugged. “And we got some target practice in, so we’ll be sharp for the mission.” 

“And I suppose you just forgot to tell me you were borrowing the _Phantom._ ” Sabine shook her head, stepping forward. It wouldn’t do for Ezra to get all the blame, not when it had been her decision to go out.

“I didn’t know where you were, and we wanted to be out of the way. We logged a flight plan with the deck officer, it was all official. I’m sorry if we worried you.” She didn’t bother feigning contrition. Hera would see right through it, and Sabine was a member of the crew. The _Phantom_ was, in a lot of ways, her responsibility. She did the little ship’s maintenance, kept it clean. It was only fair that she got to fly it of her own volition, when it wasn’t needed elsewhere.

Hera kept her pinned for a long moment, her arms crossed and her green eyes sharp and cool. Sabine could hear Ezra shifting nervously behind her by the time Hera uncrossed her arms. Her expression stayed cool, but she just said,

“Fuel’s coming out of your allowances, kids. I’m going to calibrate the _Ghost_ for the mission, stay out of trouble. Ezra, don’t forget about your sparring session later.” 

Sabine sighed as Hera left, heading for the _Ghost’s_ computers. Behind her, Leia snorted. 

“She went pretty easy on you.” She said. “Dad went on about responsibility for about a year when he found out about the bike, and we’d already refueled it and everything.” 

Sabine refrained from pointing out that she was a trained warrior, or that she’d earned the trust Hera had in her. Somehow, she didn’t think the Twins would appreciate it. They seemed to have a lot of tension with at least their father, and probably with both of their parents. Sabine knew what that was like, it was part of why she lived with the _Ghost_ crew and not with her mother. Also, why Hera lived on the _Ghost_ and not with her father. 

But all the same, Sabine didn’t impress easy, and as skilled as the two of them were in blasting clays, she couldn’t help but agree with their Senator mom and Ops Commander dad. They weren’t ready to go to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been months, ya'll, but I hope you enjoy the kids doing shenanigans. This is such a very teenaged chapter, I kinda love it. Comments are my lifeblood, if you feel like leaving one, I'll love you forever.


	3. Almost Old Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabine has a conversation. Kanan has some opinions. Ezra shares a moment.

Dantooine. 2 BBY.

By the time they got the _Phantom_ squared away, it was nearing 1700 hours and Ezra made a hasty exit from the hangar, headed back to their quarters to obsess about his date, most likely. The twins left when he did, though they headed in a different direction. Sabine stayed a few minutes more, watching the comings and goings in the hangar. The compound made her nervous, but Sabine, like any daughter of Mandalore, _loved_ ships, especially their inner workings. In preparation for the mission they were about to join, the mechanics and techs at this hangar were all in full swing, calibrating sensors and cannibalizing parts to make sure the rebellion’s little fleet of starfighters and troop transports were as efficient as possible. Sabine smiled to watch them work. A few of the mechanics waved to her as they passed, and one even complimented her dye job. The woman’s own hair was a startling shade of turquoise, and Sabine nodded in kind. 

She wasn’t sure how long she stood, leaning against the _Phantom’s_ nose, but eventually, Hera came up behind her, bootsteps familiar on the hangar deck. 

“I think those two might be a bad influence.” Said Hera, propping a hip on the _Phantom_ beside her. Sabine shook her head. 

“They’re a trip, that’s for sure.” She said. “Really, I didn’t mean to worry you. I was – trying to make friends, I guess. It’s not very often that we run into other kids, especially ones that understand a little of our lives.” 

Hera’s eyes softened. “I can understand that. Between the War and the Imperial occupation of my homeworld, I didn’t have many friends my age, either.” She shrugged. “You did it the right way, anyway. I don’t know if I could get over you getting the _Phantom_ blown out of the sky.” Sabine pulled back in mock horror. 

“I would never!” Hera chuckled, and Sabine started to join her, but she sobered as she saw the secure datapad peeking out of Hera’s belt pouch. “Are you really not going to tell us what we’re going after on this mission?” she asked. “It’s gotta be relevant for planning purposes.” 

Hera shook her head, the mirth fading from her eyes. 

“It is relevant, and it’s being taken into account, don’t worry. You’ll know the plan when you need to know the plan, and not before.” 

“Oh, come on,” said Sabine, frustrated, “I can understand Fulcrum, their identity is a huge secret, but we’re _on_ a rebel base. It’s not like we’re going to get captured before we’re on the mission proper. Don’t you trust us?” 

“You _know_ I trust you, Sabine.” Said Hera sharply. “If this were my mission with Phoenix Squadron – but it isn’t. I’m not in charge here, and the decision on who to trust isn’t mine.” She sighed. “Chief Amidala was worried about this, actually.” 

“Worried about us?” asked Sabine, surprised. The _Ghost_ crew got results, and Commander Sato had to have recommended them for this mission. What could this Amidala lady know about them that was so concerning?

“Well, worried about trust.” Said Hera, her voice now pitched low and serious. “We’re a tight-knit crew, and we’re used to working together, not under strange officers. Chief Amidala asked for my assurance that the four of you would follow orders on the mission, even if they don’t come from me.” Sabine frowned.

“You won’t be with us at all, will you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “It’s going to be that Andor guy calling the shots, and we don’t even know him.” Hera shook her head.

“See, _this_ is what the Chief was worried about.” She said, sighing. “When we joined the rebellion, we had to give up some of our autonomy. We’ve been given an opportunity to make a huge difference in this fight, but it comes at the cost of having to trust a stranger to give you orders.” She put a hand on Sabine’s shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m having to do the same thing. I’ve never met my commanding officer on this mission, and all I can do is hope that he gives me orders I can follow.” She smiled a small, sad smile. “I know you’re not comfortable with any of this, and I’m very glad to know that you trust me this far. Can I rely on you to wrangle Ezra?” 

Sabine felt her frown deepen. 

“I’m not that naïve, Hera.” She said sharply. “Some of these Rebellion people are going to have priorities that don’t match ours, and if we stay with them, it’s only a matter of time before they’ll be giving orders I can’t follow. I hope it doesn’t happen this time, but if it does, I have to do what I think is right, Hera. That’s the whole reason we’re fighting the Empire in the first place.” 

“I won’t ask you to hurt an innocent person or to stand by while someone else does, Sabine, and like I said before, I trust your judgment.”

“You don’t trust _Ezra’s_ , though.” Said Sabine, challenging. Ezra was young, didn’t have Sabine’s background, and he trusted too easily. But Hera didn’t get to talk about trust and then ask Sabine to _wrangle_ anybody, at least not without some pushback. 

“ _Ezra_ ,” said Hera, just as sharp, “wasn’t raised in a chain of command, Sabine. The fact of the matter is, we joined a wider rebel movement when we asked for their help to save Kanan at Mustafar. A lot of the good that comes with working with Phoenix Squadron is possible because of the people here. If we want to protect ordinary people, then eventually we’ll have to fight the Empire on an even footing.” She paused, her eyes darting to the side in indecision. “ _Trust me_ when I tell you that this mission will take us a lot closer to being able to do that. As far as I’m concerned, the goals of this mission outweigh the discomfort of working with strangers. But if you don’t think you can do it - and, Sabine,” she said seriously, catching Sabine’s eyes with her own, “I _understand_ if you can’t, I won’t ask you to go. I won’t order you to work with Captain Andor. All I can do is promise that it will be worth it, and tell you that I met him today, and as far as I can tell, he’s a kind man. He’s from Fest, maybe five years older than you, and he’s been with the Rebellion a long time.

The choice is yours, Sabine, no one can make it for you. If you decide to go, though, I need your word that you’ll listen to your commanding officer just like you would to me or to Commander Sato.”

Sabine thought about it. She didn’t like being kept in the dark. She didn’t like being told to trust her superiors, not when she didn’t know them. But if Captain Andor was from Fest and was older than her, then he had been a Separatist, and maybe he knew a little of what it meant to trust in the wrong people. The war the Separatists had fought, the cause they’d believed in, it had all been a lie. Mandalore knew that pain, and Sabine knew it two-fold. Every Mandalorian child learned from birth that honorable orders were law, to be followed, not without question, but with the respect owed to the commander. If any non-Mandalorian could earn Sabine’s respect without her knowing him, it would be a child of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

“I’m going.” She said, simply. “If Ezra doesn’t understand something, I’ll try to explain it.” Hera smiled, relief evident in her eyes.

“That’s all I can ask of you.” 

**

There were already lightsabers whirling when Kanan ducked into the room Ahsoka had directed him to, a large, open one built multiple levels deep in the planet’s swampy ground. The air down here was cool and a little damp, clinging to Kanan’s throat as he breathed. The two Jedi in the center of the room moved like dancers, in near perfect tandem. Their blades, one blue and the other the sort of bright yellow only produced by synthetic crystals, hummed gently as the two beings moved through their kata. Unexpectedly, a warm rush of nostalgia welled in Kanan’s heart. He hadn’t seen ‘saber work like this, easy and unworried, since the last time he’d been at the Temple. 

“Hiya.” said Ahsoka easily, from where she leaned against the wall. Her eyes were still on the pair in the middle of the room, her montrals twitching ever so slightly at his approach. “What do you think?” she asked, her practiced gaze still on the two Jedi. One, he realized, was Ko-Iri Sayanti, the Jedi refugee he’d met on Tanaab last year. The other was an unfamiliar human male, close to Kanan’s own age. 

“That’s…Soresu, isn’t it?” he asked, recognizing the smooth, almost rhythmic movement of the two blades. “They look pretty good.” Ahsoka smiled, displaying her sharp incisors. 

“It is. Any feedback? Your master favored Soresu, didn’t she?” Kanan fought down a shudder as her words brought up the Grand Inquisitor’s mocking smile. There was no trace of mockery in Ahsoka’s own face, and Kanan willed himself not to get defensive on her. 

“She did, but I, uh, didn’t get to learn from her much, bef-“ He cleared his throat rather than finish the sentence, as it had gone very tight. To cover the slip, he focused on the pair of moving Jedi, watching their movements. They were both graceful, their feet sure as they moved through the positions of the form. The saber positions were excellent, placed at the angles he remembered from his own training, but – “the one on the right, with the blue lightsaber,” said Kanan, gesturing to the man with his chin, “he puts the blade in the right place and he moves his feet the right way, but he’s not flowing between the positions and he’s leaving gaps in his defense. Little ones, but they’re there. Ezra did the same thing, after I’d taught him the moves but before he was really comfortable doing the whole form.” 

Ahsoka’s smile widened. “You’re right. It seems Taryk would rather spend time in a cockpit than with his lightsaber. Ko-Iri’s better about practicing, but she’s also a natural with Form III, always has been.” As she finished speaking, the pair of Jedi shifted into the final pose of the kata, with their lightsabers parallel to the ground, held just above head height, wrists crossed and elbows at near right-angles. Though their movements had seemed effortless, barring Taryk’s slight hesitation on the moves between positions, both were out of breath, sweat shining under the white lumas.

Taryk, having heard Ahsoka’s comment, ran a hand across the back of his head, sheepish. 

“Sorry, Commander Tano, but I figured my piloting skills are in hotter demand than my dueling ones at the moment.” Ahsoka shrugged. The man’s name, and something about the cadence in his voice was familiar now that Kanan heard them, intensifying the nostalgia that had crept in when he’d come into the room. He hadn’t been in Kanan’s own cohort, but by his age, Kanan had probably passed him in the halls and seen him in the Temple cafeteria all the time.

“You never know where Inquisitors will show up.” Ahsoka said primly. “And I hope you’re keeping tighter opsec when you’re not with me, kid, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how fracked we’ll be if the Empire figures out we’re coming.” Taryk leaned back and deactivated his lightsaber, affronted. 

“You do remember I’m Intelligence, right? I’m not thirteen anymore, even if it’s been a long time since we last saw each other.” Sayanti laughed.

“Nobody thinks you’re thirteen anymore, Taryk.” she said in her clipped Core accent. “You’re far too tall, if nothing else.” She dug an elbow into his ribs, teasing. “It’s good to see you again, Kanan.” She added, flashing a smile. Kanan nodded in turn. 

“My apologies, Taryk, call it an overabundance of caution.” Said Ahsoka. “Your transitions could use some practice, though, you’re leaving gaps in your defense when you move between positions.” Taryk ducked his head in acknowledgement, but Kanan didn’t read frustration or shame in him at the correction. 

“Maybe I’ll pick up a few pointers this evening.” He said, half a smile still on his face. “It’s been ages since I got to spar with anyone.” He and Ko-Iri turned back to the open space, already rolling their shoulders to loosen muscles.

“Speaking of,” said Ahsoka, her eyes flicking to her chrono, “we seem to be missing a few participants.” 

“Hang on,” said Kanan, hating the way his voice went strangled, “I - didn’t realize we were throwing a party.” Ahsoka grinned again, an anticipatory gleam in her eyes. 

“What can I say? There are more of us on base right now than usual, and I couldn’t resist. We Force-users should get to know each other, anyway. We weren’t meant to be alone.” Her tone turned wistful at the end, and Kanan could feel the Force’s gentle pressure against his bones, thousands of murmurs in support of the sentiment. A little of his annoyance bled away. 

“Besides,” said Ahsoka, her grin back, “it won’t be too many. We’re only missing Luke, Leia, Ezra, and Anakin, since Zatt’s in a briefing and everyone else is offworld.” 

“Master Skywalker’s got time for this?” asked Kanan, discomfort creeping back. “I would’ve thought he’d be planning the mission.” Ahsoka shook her head.

“It’s been planned for weeks, and he needs all the stress relief he can get right now, believe you me. And,” she added, her tone turning serious, “it’s not ‘Master’ anymore. Anakin and I, we’ll never really _be_ anything but Jedi, not at our cores, but I left the Order, and he’s not comfortable with the Order’s tenets and ranks. He goes by ‘General’ in the Alliance, but he’s just ‘Anakin’ with us. The Force-sensitives, you know?” Kanan blinked, taken aback. It wasn’t something he expected to hear about the Hero with No Fear, but it wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sentiment.

It was the way Kanan himself felt, a lot of the time. A Jedi served the Galaxy as a whole, and Kanan served his family above anything else. A Jedi was unattached, Kanan was…Not. Every time the Grand Inquisitor had called him ‘Padawan,’ his skin had crawled, and not just because it hurt to hear his childhood come pouring like poison out of a Darksider’s mouth. The words just didn’t _fit_ him anymore, they brought back all of the pain of that last day of the Republic and he didn’t feel the pride he once had on hearing them. The Lothal Temple had knighted him, had called him a Jedi, and it was right, in a way. Like Ahsoka, like Skywalker, he had been raised a Jedi and he couldn’t be anything else. But Kanan couldn’t call himself a Knight of the Order, either. Ezra didn’t call him ‘Master,’ and Kanan didn’t want him to.

He shook his head, knowing he’d lost himself in thought for a moment. Ahsoka’s eyes were sharp, too sharp, and Kanan felt his shields ratchet up, so tight that the muscles along his spine stiffened, involuntary. 

Before he could change the subject, though, Ezra and Luke came into the room, shoving each other and throwing elbows. It might have been any scene between Ezra and Zeb, except for the pale pink blush high on Luke’s cheeks and the distinctly tousled look to the curls as the crown of Ezra’s hair. 

Kanan raised an internal eyebrow, but he didn’t comment. Ezra looked happy, glowing from the inside out, and he wasn’t about to make fun of him in front of strangers. 

“You’re late, Luke.” Said Ahsoka coolly, one brow marking raised. The young boy ducked his head, his blush getting brighter.

“Not by much!” protested Ezra. “It’s barely five past!” Kanan and Ahsoka both chuckled, simultaneous. 

“Master Yoda used to say that if you arrive late to dinner, you can’t be surprised to find an empty table.” Said Kanan, still smiling. 

“’If arrive late to dinner, you do, be surprised, do not, when no food for you, there is.’” Said Ahsoka, in a pretty good imitation of the Grandmaster’s gravelly voice. “You’re not the last ones here, but that doesn’t mean you’re on time. Get in the room, start warming up. Kanan and I are going to put you through your paces, and that’s _before_ we get to the matches.” 

“Matches?” came a female voice from the door. Kanan turned to find Luke’s twin in the doorway. Like Luke, she was dressed in leggings and a sleeveless top in muted colors, her dark hair braided back from her face in a neat twist. “I know, Auntie, I’m late. I ran into Uncle Rex on his way to the hangars and I wanted to say bye. Besides, it looks like I beat Dad here anyway.” Kanan, whose attention had been halfway on her and halfway on Ezra’s stretches, managed not to gasp like a teenaged girl. Ezra, who was, in fact, a teenager, didn’t manage quite as well.

“This Skywalker guy is your _dad_?” Luke frowned.

“Well, yeah? Leia’s last name is Skywalker, I thought it was kind of obvious.” Kanan blinked. He hadn’t known that, after all. The twins had each taken one of their parents’ names, then. Kanan supposed it made sense, both of their names were important, carried weight, and both of them ought to carry on. Once that momentary flash of surprise faded though, Kanan was left with all the rest of it.

Ezra was spluttering, but it was more out of surprise than anything else; he had no frame of reference for the rug that had just been pulled out from under Kanan’s feet. 

Since the earliest records the Order had, Jedi made their own families, _were_ their own families. Families, friends, and all other sentient relationships; Jedi didn’t need blood, they had one another. It had been thought, back in the old republic, that the Jedi forbid romance, even sex on the whole. In reality, sex had been pretty normal and romance not infrequent. It was only addressed if it became a problem, and it usually hadn’t. 

But Jedi _didn’t have children_. They might mess around and conceive, but those Jedi got assigned to long-term assignments in the Outer Rim and didn’t come back home until the child could be integrated into the creches like every other child in the Temple. Not even Ki-Adi-Mundi visited his children, and he’d only had them in the first place to save his species from extinction. Jedi didn’t have parents or siblings or children. They had padawans, Masters, creche-mates, but that wasn’t the same and Kanan had never known that until the day he’d looked around the _Ghost_ at Zeb and Sabine and Ezra and felt like his heart was going to squeeze up out of his ears. 

Nearly on autopilot, Kanan started stretching out his shoulders. When he’d griped to Hera about coming on this trip, it hadn’t even been about _this_. He’d thought he’d chafe at the chain of command, have to clench his teeth while Hera kept things from him. He hadn’t been expecting his childhood, every warm, comfortable moment of it, to punch him in the gut every time Ahsoka mentioned an old name, every time he heard laughter and lightsabers humming in tandem, and now, whenever he looked at these teenagers, these impossible teenagers who called a Jedi Knight ‘Dad.’

Force. No _wonder_ Skywalker didn’t want to be called a Jedi. He was even further from the Code than Kanan himself was.

“Okay,” said Ahsoka then, pushing herself away from the wall, “line up and warm up kids, no one’s pulling a muscle on my watch.” Although her words were most definitely those of a teacher, not a colleague, she joined the younger beings as they started (or continued, in Taryk and Ko-Iri’s cases) stretching. Kanan started moving too. He’d learned a standard set of kata warmups as a youngling, and he used something similar when he worked with Ezra, but to his surprise, the rest of them didn’t use anything like the warmups taught in the Temple. Ahsoka’s routine was more like a dancer’s, sets of static stretches instead of kata, and the twins followed her lead. The other two _were_ still doing kata, but they weren’t warming up, merely staying limber in between more intense sets. By the time Ahsoka drew one of her lightsabers and motioned for the kids to do the same, Kanan’s joints were pleasantly loose and his mind had started to clear. There was nothing like movement, especially kata, to take his mind off of his precarious emotional footing. 

“I promised sparring, so let’s get into it.” Said Ahsoka. “There are enough new and unfamiliar faces around so that everyone can pair off with someone they don’t work with regularly. You can never get too much practice at reading a new opponent.” She chuckled. “Whatever Obi-Wan Kenobi might tell you, you’re probably not going to run into the same enemies over and over like your life is a holoseries.” 

Kanan snorted, unbidden. To be fair, Master Kenobi _had_ run into the same lightsaber-wielding enemies rather more than could be expected during the Clone Wars. The creche had forever been alive with rumor about the latest brush with Grievous or Ventress.

Ahsoka looked over at Kanan. “Want to start things off?” she asked. Kanan shrugged and took his lightsaber from its spots on his belt, snapping it together with movements so practiced that they barely took thought anymore. 

“Let’s go.” He said, cool. Internally, though, he couldn’t help but worry a little. Although he fought against Inquisitors and sparred with Ezra all the time, his last formal dueling training had been more than fifteen years ago and he’d been barely more than a youngling at the time. Ahsoka had years of experience on him, even factoring out her lineage, which contained the beset duelists in the Jedi Order. 

He lit his lightsaber, letting its familiar hum settle his nerves. Across the room from him, Ahsoka did the same. By unspoken agreement, both blades sat at low power, barely enough to sting where they connected with skin. Ahsoka took a step, her gait nearly a prowl, and Kanan mirrored her, sinking into a ready stance and watching her every move. Tension coiled between them, tight as a spring. Ahsoka’s face was set in a slight frown of concentration, and Kanan could feel her mind against his, cool and bright, turning away his probing like water over a stone. 

He sprang for her, sweeping his lightsaber at her midsection. She grinned even as her own blade snapped up, white as snow, to meet it. 

The two lightsabers sang as they flashed against each other. Kanan moved on instinct, letting the Force carry him from footing to footing. The room wasn’t big enough to get any significant distance between themselves, and it was a battle of speed and strength. Kanan had reach on Ahsoka, and he was strong, but she darted around him like a stinging insect, her lightsaber jabbing at his defenses. Though she hadn’t drawn her shoto, she fought using Jar’Kai, in a whirling dervish dance of white plasma. 

Kanan shoved her back after one such bout of furious attacks and parries, setting his stance and breathing hard. He was gratified to see that she was, too. Her blade had marked his upper arm and one knee, but there was a red mark high on her shoulder where the tip of his own saber had scored a thin line. Ahsoka tilted her head to one side, a considering look in her blue eyes, and then deactivated her lightsaber, tossing it and the other hilt to Luke. She raised one brow marking at Kanan in invitation, and he followed suit. Ezra caught his lightsaber out of the air even as Ahsoka lunged at him, throwing herself low and sweeping a kick at his knees. Kanan leapt out of the way as she tumbled to her feet and threw a flurry of punches at her center-mass. His fists connected with her bare forearms with a smack, and he found himself grinning as he wrapped both around her arm and flipped her over his shoulder. 

She landed on her feet and hooked a leg around his ankle, bringing them both to the floor. Kanan had to roll to avoid knocking the air from his lungs, and barely got his foot up in time to kick her away from him before she could put him in a hold. He scrambled to his feet as she charged for him again, and this time it was his arms stinging under her fists as she struck at him, a series of quick punches meant to put him on the defensive and push him back toward the wall. Kanan let her do it, backtracking to stay ahead of her. Ahsoka’s knee hit his side hard, and Kanan’s breath whooshed from his lungs, but he threw a forearm at her face, making her duck away. 

Her palm slapped against his arm as she did so, and Kanan cursed internally as she turned his earlier move on him, flipping him over her shoulder. Kanan landed hard on his back, and when he got his bearings a split second later, ready to kick Ahsoka across the room, she had her closed fist on his sternum. 

He dropped his foot back to the floor and accepted her hand up. 

“Well fought.” She said. “You would have broken my ribs right then if we’d been fighting for real. Reminds me of sparring with Obi-Wan, way back when.” Kanan blinked, surprised. He’d had to come up with a few new tricks to keep ahead of the Inquisition’s spinning lightsabers, but he hadn’t expected to be compared to Master Kenobi. 

“You too.” He said, remembering his manners. “You could have used both sabers, though.” She grinned. 

“Maybe next time I will.” She said. “Who’s next? Anakin, I can feel you itching to hit something from over here.” 

Kanan jerked around, trying not to stare. He’d come into the room while Kanan and Ahsoka had been sparring, and Kanan, like an unobservant youngling, hadn’t noticed. He was dressed more like a spacer than a Jedi, his dirty blond hair was cropped short, and Kanan could see a few pale lines of scar tissue along his cheek and jaw, but it was most definitely Anakin Skywalker, looking younger and older than he had any right to. Skywalker had been dead at 23 for nearly twenty years now, it was strange to see him as a grown man. 

“Yeah, yeah, see how _you_ feel after nearly an hour of Yernax monologuing.” Skywalker said, rolling his eyes. “Even Padmé was ready to punch him by the time he stopped and I could slip out.”

“Well, we’re trying to learn to gauge our opponents on the fly, so make a friend.” Said Ahsoka breezily. Kanan made himself follow her out of the middle of the room and took his lightsaber back from Ezra, who gave him a questioning look. 

“That’s the guy from yesterday, right?” he muttered. Kanan nodded. “Cool.” Said Ezra. His eyes flicked to Luke once, and then he stepped forward.

“I’m game.” He said. Kanan managed to turn his choke of surprise into a cough. Skywalker raised an eyebrow, stretching the famous scar that ran through it. 

“Sure. Neat lightsaber.” He added, nodding to Ezra’s combination hilt. Ezra grinned, pride running along his bond with Kanan. 

Ahsoka settled herself to the ground, cross legged beside Ko-Iri. She looked up and patted the space next to her. Feeling somewhat numb, Kanan sank down. 

“This is a good idea, right?” he had to ask, as his apprentice took a stance opposite Skywalker. Ezra had grown a good bit since Kanan had met him, though that mostly meant he was clumsier than normal, unused to his longer limbs. It struck Kanan to see here though, because Ezra was only a few inches shorter than his opponent.

“Sure.” Said Ahsoka. “Ezra’s right up Anakin’s alley, trust me.” Kanan shrugged.

“I guess you’d know better than me.” He said. Even so, he couldn’t help the tension coiling in his gut as Ezra flicked his blue blade up into a defensive position. Skywalker’s own saber spun over his hand in a tight spiral, meant to bleed off excess energy. 

Unsurprisingly, Ezra moved first, his saber flashing out lightning-quick in a strike aimed at his opponent’s knees. Skywalker batted it aside, one-handed, and stepped neatly out of Ezra’s reach. Ezra followed him, throwing himself up and into an aerial roll. The two lightsabers crashed together as Ezra used Skywalker’s braced stance to vault over him, landing back to back even as Skywalker spun on him. This time it was Ezra who danced back from the tip of Skywalker’s blade. 

“C’mon, kid, don’t be sloppy.” Muttered Kanan, his fingers curling into a fist without his conscious input. Ahsoka sighed, watching as Ezra backed up, letting Skywalker push him toward the wall under a flurry of neat, economic strokes. 

“He’s not bad.” She said. “He’s taking the time to watch and learn, just like I told them to.” She was right, Kanan could see the slight furrow between Ezra’s brows that meant he was thinking, hard. Maybe _too_ hard for the middle of a fight; Kanan twitched as one of Ezra’s blocks came up too slow and Skywalker’s blade brushed his ribcage. The sabers were as low-powered as Ahsoka’s and his own had been, but it was still nerve-wracking to see a lightsaber hit his apprentice. 

Ezra growled and snapped a hard kick into Skywalker’s chest, knocking him back onto his heels. Kanan felt a surge of pride in the kid as he pressed his advantage, his blue blade whipping around in his own unorthodox version of Ataru that he’d learned from Kanan’s old holocron. Skywalker bent back, his spine parallel to the floor, in order to avoid one of Ezra’s more inventive moves, and Kanan found himself grinning. Right up until Skywalker threw himself into an aerial cartwheel and Ezra had to dive out of the way, that was. Ezra landed hard, skidding on the floor and coming up on one knee. 

Beside Kanan, Ahsoka grinned. “They’re a good match.” 

“Ezra’s still in it, that’s good enough for me.” Said Kanan. This was very much a sparring match, and if they’d really been fighting, Skywalker had killed Ezra a couple of times now. But even so, Ezra was keeping up, enough that although his opponent was playing with him, it was at least a fun game for both of them. Against this man, that was impressive. 

Still, Kanan flinched as Ezra caught a hard punch and stumbled back, his saber coming down just a bit, leaving enough of an opportunity for Skywalker to bring the point of his own up to Ezra’s throat. 

“That was fun.” Said Skywalker, deactivating his lightsaber. Ezra followed suit a half-second later, taking Skywalker’s proferred hand. “You’re Ezra Bridger, aren’t you?” Ezra blinked. His face was flushed with exertion, but Kanan could see his ears going pink in embarrassment as well. 

“Uh-yeah, I am.” Kanan watched him step on the urge to ask how Skywalker knew his name. Wanting to spare the poor kid more small talk with the father of the guy he’d just gone on a date with, Kanan stood. 

“He’s with me. Kanan Jarrus.” Skywalker turned to him, a slight curve to his mouth that might have been trying to be friendly. 

“Anakin Skywalker.” He said. “I met Captain Syndulla yesterday, I’m sorry I haven’t been able to greet the two of you before now. There are a lot more politicians than usual on base right now, and my wife is adamant that my presence is needed.” He shrugged. “ _I_ think the best favor I can do her is to stay out of punching range of Representative Yernax and Admiral Atrela both, but I do what she says when it comes to politics.” 

“No problem.” Said Kanan, unsure how to respond to the comment about – _wife_ , had to mean Padmé Amidala, right? – “Admiral Atrela’s here?” He made his voice stay neutral, stamping on the reflexive dislike that threatened to make him grimace at the name. Admiral Tor Atrela, Formerly of His Majesty’s Imperial Navy, was an excellent battle commander, but that didn’t mean Kanan wanted to run into him in person ever again. Or anyone else who thought of lives as capital, assets to expend as necessary to achieve an _objective_. 

“Yeah, but not for your op.” Skywalker said. “Believe it or not, the politics are totally unrelated to anything on my radar, I’m just in the room to loom at whoever Padmé needs to remind that she’s got friends who can read minds.” 

Kanan blinked. Behind him, he heard Ahsoka and at least one other person snort. 

“Threats aren’t exactly the Jedi way, are they?” asked Ko-Iri, reproach in her tone. Skywalker’s gaze flicked to her, away from Kanan for the first time since he’d introduced himself, and Kanan relaxed minutely. Force, but the man’s very presence seemed to demand straight spines and Core-perfect salutes. 

“Yeah, well, neither is implying we can actually read minds. And I’m not a Jedi.” If Ko-Iri’s tone had been reproachful, Skywalker’s was downright challenging, daring her to call him on that. Kanan could feel the conviction thrumming through Skywalker’s Force signature, and even with Ahsoka’s pointed warning, he had to wonder what in all hells had _happened_ to the man in the last 17 years. This wasn’t the half-shame, half-grief that made Kanan’s gut clench at the sound of lightsaber kata, it was something _steady_ , resolute, even. This man was a Jedi in the Force, but Kanan knew, just then, that if you offered him the chance to go back to the way things had been before the War, he wouldn’t take it.

Anakin Skywalker had been a Jedi Knight, Temple-raised and forged in the Trials. A Knight like that should have clung ever harder to the Order in the wake of its destruction. There were so few Jedi left, and virtually no way that the Order would ever be what it had been before the end of the War. _What_ could have made this man so determined to leave the Jedi Order in its grave?

**

The room wasn’t hot at all, but it was _humid_ , much more so than Ezra was used to. He was sweating freely by the time he helped Ko-Iri, his last opponent of the night, to her feet and exchanged a brief nod with her. She clapped him on the shoulder as they turned away from the open space serving as the sparring floor, passing Anakin, Leia, Kanan, and Ahsoka as they set up for a two-on-two match. 

Luke joined him as he dropped to the floor against the wall, his water canteen in hand. Anakin and Kanan seemed to be setting up against Leia and Ahsoka, and from the way Ahsoka and Leia moved in tandem, their movement unconsciously mirrored, Ezra thought Kanan’s side was at a bit of a disadvantage. Luke himself was still sweating from his own last match, a tense hand-to-hand grapple with Taryk. Luke had done well, but it had been pretty clear that neither one of them was a master of martial arts. Luke also hadn’t joined in on the lightsaber sparring, although he’d been in three hand-to-hand bouts now. It might have been rude, but Ezra had to ask,

“How come you’re not using a lightsaber?” Luke shrugged, his ears flushing pink.

“I, uh – it’s just never been my _thing._ ” he said softly, and now Ezra could see the way his eyes tracked the lightsabers in the room, which had to be difficult, given that four of the six of them were the same color. “Dad’s really amazing at it and sparring’s one of Leia’s favorite things to do, but I –“ he broke off, his eyes on the four in the middle of the room. “I can use one and everything, but I don’t – like it, much. The first time I was in a real firefight, I was eight, and I felt a lot of people die – in the Force, you know?”

Ezra shuddered. He still remembered the way it had felt, the first time he’d felt a stormtrooper die. It had been during those first crazy days with the Ghost crew, and Kanan had been there to bleed some of the sick chill of the Force away, already trying to protect Ezra from harm. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it would have been if he’d been that young. Luke shrugged again.

“I don’t know why, it wasn’t a lightsaber fight or anything, but whenever I hold one, I just think of that, there, and – it’s just – awful. I know what lightsabers do, when they’re powered all the way up. I don’t want to do that to anyone.” 

“I’ve never thought of it like that.” Said Ezra, because he didn’t have anything else to say. He’d never killed anyone with a lightsaber, after all, never even seen Kanan do it. The Inquisitor on Tarkin’s Star Destroyer had _let go,_ they hadn’t had to kill him, and that was the closest they’d ever gotten. Luke sighed, eyes serious.

“I probably wouldn’t either, but the first time I met Dad, he was missing his arm. He’s lost his right arm twice, you know. It’s hard not to think about, when your dad, this guy you’ve built up in your head to be _perfect_ , is missing a limb because of a lightsaber.” Luke shook himself. “Anyway,” he said, his voice suddenly brighter, louder, “I learned to use one and everything, but I’m a much better pilot, and that’s what I want to do for the Rebellion anyway.” Ezra ran a hand along the back of his head. That story was so _personal_ , he felt like he owed Luke at least an easy subject change in return.

“Well, you’re scary good at shooting, anyway.” He knocked his shoulder into Luke, who grinned, bright. His ears were pink again, but this time, Ezra thought he was flattered, not embarrassed. 

“I had a good time today. And tonight.” He said, still smiling. “If you wanted to spend some more time together, while you’re on base anyway – “ 

“I’d like that.” Ezra interrupted. “We can spar. Hand-to-hand, I mean. No complaining if I kick your ass, though.” 

Luke burst out laughing, and Ezra caught a momentary glare from Kanan, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been months, I know, and I'm sorry, but this one's pretty long, so I hope you enjoy! Comments are my lifeblood, and as always, if you feel like leaving one, I'll be eternally grateful (even if it's just yelling at me for taking six months to write one chapter)

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe it's been more than a year since I finished High Stakes Galactic Pinball, ya'll. I'm really going to try not to have that long between writings from now on, but I do have a real life too and sometimes it gets in the way. Kudos are lovely, comments make my day, and both make me want to write faster. 
> 
> Also, if you're wondering why Kanan's not blind, it's because Maul is deader than a dead doornail in this universe and has been since his last appearance in the Clone Wars series. Although I love Rebels, I am not incorporating canon after the season finale of season 1, since Vader showing up is...not a thing in this 'verse and it kind of dictates how the series goes. As for the rest of the cast, canon stops mattering to me a LOT earlier than 5 BBY, so...if I'm ignoring canon, it's probably on purpose! As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


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